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11-06-2013, 06:09 AM
we might be hollow but we're brave.
She soon grew bored with this whimsical crooning, and bade the sea-birds away with an erroneous note. Their pale wings sent them scattering over a blue sky so perfect she couldn't comprehend its depth, bits of down feather flitting down to the sand with careless ease. For a moment, the child stood perfectly still, not even a whisker on her body quivering in the faint wind. There was naught but the eternal lullaby of the waves to fill her mind, so she stood under the pleasant summer sun and enjoyed it, eyes closing as she took in the smell of salt on the gentle sea breezes and the pleasant wetness over her fetlocks as the brine washed over it, foam clinging to the shedding fur. When the stillness grew tiresome, she took to swaying lightly, as if fancying herself a leaf on a palm tree. A carpet of pale flowers spread from her feet, poking their heads gingerly over the gritty sand, washing away with the tides when the water swirled over them. She sighed softly. When would Mother come back?"Loth." A broad smile spread over her lips at the sound of her name spoken over the wind. Eagerly, her head twisted backward, eyes scanning the bright surroundings to find her father. She found him perched upon a boulder, a smile on his features which seemed nor odd nor ill-fitting on his face. "Papa!" she called voraciously, open admiration playing on her face as she watched him; he was not a king of death or a herald of terror to the filly, not a Lord or god or even intimidating: he was Papa, and a solid half of her ever-growing world. With barely suppressed glee, spindly legs traipsed over the dunes of sand that lay between them like an endless waste, her destination resolute even as the sun-warmed granules scalded the bottoms of her hooves and chafed the delicate skin of her limbs. When the distance between them was closed, she paused before him, delicate head craning upward to look at his looming form as he stood upon the stone pedestal, her tail wagging with delight. He was magnificent, as any father should be to their children: tall and brave and wise, but not untouchable, not beyond reach. She loved him fiercely, and felt that if it came to it, she would pick every flower from her trail for him (and that was a lot). After a moment, she looked back toward the sea, wide eyes full to the brim with visions of virtue and water. Her smile dimmed into thought: a strange thing to see on the face of a child. She looked back to Deimos. "Does it ever end?" she wondered. |
